[And so it begins. :o You know the drill, introduce your characters as you will, and let's get this show on the road!]

The moon was waning and the cloud cover was thick, so there was precious little light for him to see by other than that of his magical torch, a toy he had bought from a vendor of magical trinkets a few markets ago. The street lanterns here had been neglected, and had gone out.

He shivered, huddling against the cold night air, and increased his pace. There was something odd about tonightâ€¦ a sense of unease, a disquiet abroad that was almost tangible; and his torch cast the oddest, flickering shadows around him. A side effect of the vendorâ€™s limited magical ability, he assumed.

Turning left down the side road that would take him onto Throne Street and his home, he stumbled as a black shape darted from behind and knocked into his legs. Swinging the torch around, he was greeted by the glowing green eyes and smug face of the next door neighbourâ€™s cat.

â€˜Shoo, Ebon, shoo! Away home, there is something in the airâ€¦â€™

Ebon bobbed her head, almost as if in agreement, and trotted away towards Throne Street, and he followed, taking comfort in her presence, even if she had tried to trip him.

The cat led him out of the side road and onto Throne Street, prowling along the centre of the road. He reflected that it was somewhat odd for her to avoid the shadows to either side, and when she stopped to hiss at something in an alley to the right, he almost leapt out of his skin.

â€˜Whoâ€™s there?â€™ He mumbled, then shook his head and spoke the words once more, louder, attempting to force confidence into his tone.

A creature slightly larger than Ebon shambled into view, bow-legged and head bowed. What was it? Perhaps it was some manner of dog? If it was, then it was the ugliest mutt he had ever seen. Stepping towards it tentatively, he crouched as it whimpered.

â€˜Whatâ€™s wrong with you, little fellow? Are you in pain?â€™

It expelled further pitiful utterances, and he felt compelled to reach out to it in sympathy for its distress.

â€˜Here, let me look at y-â€˜ He was cut short as it suddenly hissed, leapt, and latched itself to his face, muffling the sounds of his cries, expanding over his form like a shell of blackness forming over him, and finally engulfed him.

His torch clattered to the cobbles, as did his bones.

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The White Wand in Baron City was abuzz with the gossip of the moment any morning you could care to mention, and today was no exception. The difference was that today there really was something to talk about.

â€˜Did you hear about the killings?â€™
â€˜â€¦Stripped clean, so I heardâ€¦â€™
â€˜Terrible, just terrible.â€™
â€˜What could have caused it?â€™

Of course, nobody really knew anything, so the conversations were circular in nature, looping around and around, the issue having no hope of being settled in any satisfactory manner and showing promise to continue until closing time.

Rumours and tales were not the only thing the White Wand was famed for, of course, and many of the dayâ€™s customers were simply there to take their fill of the innâ€™s exclusive ale, known to the clientele affectionately as â€œWand Juiceâ€, though properly named â€œWandâ€™s Ownâ€, or were having their breakfast, having stayed in the innâ€™s rooms the night before.

Waikiki was sitting in the White Wand, her ears pricked up as she listened to the conversations about her. She looked rather like a white-furred nekojin, save for the small white horn in the middle of her forehead, which gently curved upwards. Her tail was rather more like an otter's than a cat's, but with a tuft of fur that looked as though it had been dyed with streaks of green and blue.

Her long hair looked as though it had been dyed similarly, with streaks of various rainbow colors running through it, with a few patches of white which is presumably her original hair color. A few small, haphazard braids were tied in, and the whole mass was held back in a loose ponytail.

Originally from a tropical climate, Waikiki had adjusted to the weather in Baron as best as she could, bundled up warmly with dark blue leggings and a bright blue sweater, the neck just low enough to show the small shell necklace about her throat.

Leaning with her elbows propped on a table and her tail curling behind her, she poked at the remains of her breakfast with a fork, mulling over what she was hearing, and also having to deal with the fact that she was mentally translating everything she heard.

Wonder how long this has been happening. Maybe I could establish the hair dye shop here, but with this recent events...

At another table in the White Wand, a Chuushiman woman sits there, drinking her tea, while jotting down some notes in a small book of hers. However, this wasn't the only thing she was doing...like many others, she was also keeping an ear open for the rumors going around about the attacks.

At yet another table in the White Wand, a young man in his late teens (Or possibly his early twenties) sat. Of course, it was more of a lounge, as his feet were up on his table, one combat boot wearing foot crossed over the other lazily. He was thin, but his clothes- Black slacks, a loose gray shirt, and a black trenchcoat- made it hard to tell for sure. He leaned back a bit more in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, as his black plumed fedora slid over his face a bit more than it already had. Soon enough, it fell off completely, causing the man to come out of his stupor.

He ran a hand through his dirty-blonde hair and swung his legs off the table, standing. Quickly scooping his hat off the ground, he placed it expertly back on his head, then after making a quick adjustment to it, he looked around, smirking slightly...Until his eyes fell on Waikiki, when the smirk upgraded itself into a bit of a smile. He'd never seen many non-humans, as his native land was highly against the thought of allowing such people in, so one like Waikiki highly sparked his interest. Putting his hands in his coat pockets, he began to meander over, until he stood just before her. Indicating a chair and smiling broadly, he began speaking in a thin East Barian accent.

"Hello there! You mind if I have a seat, or would you prefer to be alone for now?"

The Fystal looked up, ears flicking as she shifted from listening to the other conversations to the man in front of her.

"Aloha! And it is all right if you want to take a seat, ku'uipo," she said cheerfully, a slight, hard to place accent in her voice. The sprinkling of exotic words didn't help either, but she seemed cheerful enough.

Darren, on the other hand, wasn't really listening to what the others were saying, because he was upstairs. He wasn't really planning on staying there, but was staying there before going back to his base.

That is because our Darren here was a Dragoon. Not that you'd notice if you saw him. A rather tall, thin man in his late teens/early twenties, with short brown hair, and a longish face. Rather Baronian, really.

And he was also going down, trying to get something to eat and drink before deciding what to do that day...

Catch some of the news he did, but not enough to make assumptions. Therefore, he just decided to hang around, and see what he could hear.

"I am Waikiki, from Reohodenâ€” in Argovia. And where are you fromâ€” V'al?" she asked, a slight pause over his name as she made sure she spoke it correctly. Waikiki finished up the remains of her breakfast, hunched forward slightly with her head cocked to one side. She looked at Val quizzically.

Darren was soon approached by an employee of the Wand, who asked him if his night had been comfortable and whether he would be interested in breakfast.

As is the way with such things, the rumours were now interspersed with speculation of steadily grander ambition.

'Even the marrow too, I'm told.'
'Did you know one of the victims is supposed to be Roger Damethorne of Throne Street?'
'Well, everyone knew he had connections with the undead, they must have turned on him!'
'Oh really now, just because Roger made a point of never turning away business, even undead -'
'It was his undoing, I tell you! I bet it was some malevolent ghost who got displeased with the man's work...'

The Wand's staff were all ignoring the conversation, treating it as they always did - a steady source of income, for as long as they didn't falter in supplying drinks to their gossiping clientele.

Kelne let the rumours of dark doings wash over him without comment, enjoying a glass of the house specialty. If there was one thing that he was certain of, it was that there was always some damned source of trouble out there.

Well, he was on vacation, so he was going to completely ignore it. Well, that was the plan, anyway. His traitor ears insisted on filing away all the so-called information flying about the room. They also picked up the word 'Barius', prompting him to turn his head slightly towards the source.

Barius was also someone else's problem. In theory. Certainly the likelihood of them invading Baron was slim to non-existent. Still, he made a conscious decision to keep his ears open.

"You heard correctly. But I can't get any more beyond that...Guess we'll just have to keep our ears open, eh?...Hate to be rude, but I'm going to go see what else I can pick up. Lemme know if you need something."

Flashing another smile to Waikiki, Val stood, quickly choosing someone from those who seemed to know what they were saying at random, and plopped himself down as close to that person as possible.

Val sat himself down next to the man who had mentioned Mr. Damethorne and subseqently defended him, an overweight gentleman with a short beard and a receding hairline in clothing typical of the merchant caste - of good, hard-wearing materials, with a few extravagances as acknowledgement of the merchant's wealth, including a wide-brimmed, plumed hat of the same light purple as the rest of his ensemble. Needless to say, it didn't suit him.

'Anyway, the real issue is, are the rest of us in danger, and what are the authorities going to do to about it?' He was saying, and those around him nodded their agreement. 'Clearly it is some foul creature, or perhaps an ensorcelment of truly fiendish nature. Perhaps both at once - the summoners of Mist, maybe...'

'Imply such again and I'll give you something real to worry about, Jamesson.' The speaker sat a few tables across, a man in his early thirties, dressed in a light green cloak which obscured the rest of his clothing. His hair was of a strawberry blonde colouration, and his irises were blue. 'Their is no emnity between the Summoners and the rest of Baron. Resentment perhaps, but not enough... Besides, if they wanted to cause Baron harm, I do believe a lot more damage would have been done by now.'

'Be that as it may...' Jamesson began, but a meaningful look from the cloaked man caused him to mumble the next few words before falling uncomfortably silent.

Trying to act as if he was simply minding his own business, Val made another adjustment or two to his hat, and continue listening in to see if there was any more to hear. Failing that, he'd simply get up and move on, trying to make it look like a more appealing seat had opened up elsewhere.

There was no more to hear near Jamesson, who left soon after his dressing down by the man in green. He himself sat sipping at a cup of tea, examining a bundle of papers he had withdrawn from under his cloak.

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Waikiki left the White Wand to wander along Monarch Street towards the castle, her path taking her by a number of stores. One in particular stood out to her - the Pretty Parrot, a shop that sold clothing and accessories, the exterior of which was painted in a selection of colours Waikiki herself might have chosen.

Waikiki kept her ears open as she rose, having already paid for her meal. she wasn't sure about most of what she had heardâ€” being new in the area, she didn't know much of what they were talking about, and didn't feel quite like asking them yet. Instead, she coiled her tail about her waist for a moment, flicking the tuft of fur on the end before she walked out, arms crossed and paws tucked to her sides as she decided to go for a walk. She hated sitting still for too long, and figured that the moderate exercise would be good for her thoughts.

Who knows? I might even hear something else useful, she thought, flicking her ears back.

Val proceded to get up and move on, trying to get a glance at the papers as he passed, sitting down to the next person who seemed to know what they were talking about. It wasn't quite his style to start up a conversation on it until he knew a bit more.

Processing and filing the headline away, Val decided his best course of action. Heading over to the man in green, he sat beside him and smiled that little smile of his, giving his hat another slight adjustment to the left.

"Hello, sir. Just managed to overhear that you seem to know something about what's going on here. Care to fill me in?"

"Yes, thank you. No thank you." Darren wasn't really paying attention. The rumour had shocked him and sparked his interest at the same time, and even the sound of his eating would interrupt it. Besides, he was SURE he saw a bit of dirt on the bottom of the plates last time he ate. Ewww.

Darren just decided, after listening to the same things for a while, to try to get more useful information from people. Trying to see who knew the most (apart from the guy who left), he went to ask:

The rest of the conversations were really repeating the rumours that had already come before. People had died, everything stripped from them but their bones, including, so the rumour went, the marrow...

'I am permitted to tell you that there is substance to the rumours, and that all possible precautions are being taken by the authorities. It is suggested that you do not stay out after dark, since the killings took place under its cover. That is all.'

Thus, Waikiki had an enjoyable time as she browsed about a bit. Mostly, the homey atmosphere made her feel quite comfortable, resulting in her buying a small bracelet which had bright beads and bits of shell.

When the Fystal re-emerged, she took another glance at it.

Hm. If that's able to stay in business, there must be some demand for the products... I could try either supplying my dyes to this store, or open another shop at another location where I won't have this store's competition...

She continued on her walk, thinking a bit more and doing a small loop in the area before returning to the Wand.

'Be that as it may sir, I'm not under any obligation to tell you any more than you have no doubt already heard in amongst the embellishment. Their is substance o the rumour, all possible precautions are being taken as we speak, and you are advised not to stay out after nightfall, since the deaths occured under its cover.'

'If anyone knew, I'm sure such information would be made public.' He replied with another sigh. 'But as noone does, it can't be. Do you people really have nothing better to do than interrogate me? My tea's getting cold.'

From his seat, Kelne collated the information. Apparently, nobody had the faintest idea what was going on, but that wasn't stopping certain parties from acting vague and mysterious about it. In addition, it seemed that a few people were already beginning to contemplate hunting down the culprit. He gave it another couple of minutes before someone came up with the brilliant plan of roaming the streets at night acting helpless.

A quiet sigh escaped him. That sense of impending doom was acting up again. Somehow, he just knew that he was going to wind up involved, regardless of his efforts to find peace and quiet. Was it really so much to ask that he not battle the unholy forces of darkness and stupidity every now and again?

Apparently so. And, given the level of gossip, it was only a matter of time before the minions heard about it and devised a brilliant scheme involving a pit. Last time they'd caught a lawyer, who had threatened him with legal mumbo-jumbo. Kelne had threatened him with filling in the pit and walking away.

And for the green cloaked man, at least, life was very normal once again and he was allowed to drink his tea in peace... for a minute or two, at which time a messenger hurried in and whispered something in his ear. Paling visibly, he stood up abruptly and followed the messenger out, passing Waikiki on his way.

Waikiki glanced about at the hush, and her ears momentarily flattened. Unnatural silences made her antsy.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't my fault, ku'uipos," she said automatically. A hush like that back home usually meant she had been caught doing something that, while amusing, wouldn't be generally approved of.

Waikiki soon got the feeling that the silence had indeed been nothing to do with her, as she was summarily ignored. Instead, the conversations took a new turn...

'Carim left in a hurry...'
'And you know what he is.'
'And what it will be about.'
'Another death.'

Some voices gave rise the opinion that they should follow him, that they had a right to know; but these were soon outweighed by the general opinion that if there had been a killing in broad daylight... Maybe they'd all be better off staying indoors.

No, there wasn't any peace and quiet to be found here. Given half an excuse, these people would keep yammering on for half the night before belatedly realising that they had to brave the dark streets in order to get home.

Whilst someone like Inverse would no doubt drink in the information, ask a few probing questions, and know half the secrets of the city by nightfall, Kelne simply found the constant gossip irritating.

After consideration, he got up. A walk seemed to be in order. Get a bit of fresh air, see some more of the city's sights. In amongst all the commotion, it was unlikely anyone really noticed the departure of a lone patron as he wandered out into the streets.

Watching as the man in the green cloak left, Val made another quick adjustment or two to his hat, then gave his coat similar treatment. And with that, he went out, hoping to be see which way the man in green went so that once he was good and ready, Val could head in that direction himself.